Psalm 79

¹ O God, the heathen enter’d have

thine heritage; by them

Defiled is thy house: on heaps

they laid Jerusalem.

² The bodies of thy servants they

have cast forth to be meat

To rav’nous fowls; thy dear saints’ flesh

they gave to beasts to eat.

³ Their blood about Jerusalem

like water they have shed;

And there was none to bury them

when they were slain and dead.

⁴ Unto our neighbours a reproach

most base become are we;

A scorn and laughingstock to them

that round about us be.

⁵ How long, Lord, shall thine anger last?

wilt thou still keep the same?

And shall thy fervent jealousy

burn like unto a flame?

⁶ On heathen pour thy fury forth,

that have thee never known,

And on those kingdoms which thy name

have never call’d upon.

⁷ For these are they who Jacob have

devoured cruelly;

And they his habitation

have caused waste to lie.

⁸ Against us mind not former sins;

thy tender mercies show;

Let them prevent us speedily,

for we’re brought very low.

⁹ For thy name’s glory help us, Lord,

who hast our Saviour been:

Deliver us; for thy name’s sake,

O purge away our sin.

¹⁰ Why say the heathen, Where’s their God?

let him to them be known;

When those who shed thy servants’ blood

are in our sight o’erthrown.

¹¹ O let the pris’ner’s sighs ascend

before thy sight on high;

Preserve those in thy mighty pow’r

that are design’d to die.

¹² And to our neighbours’ bosom cause

it sev’n-fold render’d be,

Ev’n the reproach wherewith they have,

O Lord, reproached thee.

¹³ So we thy folk, and pasture-sheep,

shall give thee thanks always;

And unto generations all

we will shew forth thy praise.